Not her Mother
by clumsy.carrie
Summary: Ginny Weasley is a "cool mom"... she doesn't hesitate to let her children do most of what they want and isn't afraid to give them a little space. But is she giving them too much? Family Moment between Bill and Ginny... ONESHOT


Hi All!

So you know, in this, Lily is three, Albus is four, James is six, Rose is four, Hugo is three and Victoire is nine. The ages seem correct, as far as I can tell: please correct me if I'm wrong and I'll make the necessary adjustments.

Thanks!

Carrie

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Ginny Weasley had always imagined being the cool Mum.

You know the one, who wasn't afraid to host the co-ed sleepovers (as long as they were moderately supervised—she didn't want to be the _stupid_ mother) or the one who allowed her pre-Hogwarts kids to play Quidditch as long as they could prove they wouldn't fall off the broom immediately. She wanted to let her daughter wear overalls and ratty t-shirts if she so wished, and let her son repaint his room (so long as he followed through) whatever pattern and color he wanted. She wanted to dress well but not like she was trying to be a teenager, and she always wanted to be in love with her husband. She wanted her kids to think of her as someone they could talk to and trust with their secrets, and she wasn't sure how to do that _without_ being the cool parent.

Basically, she didn't want to be her mother.

But her heart still beat a little faster as she nodded her consent as her three children scampered out her front door to play by the pond with their cousins. The pond was a semi-threatening thing to any parent of a toddler: it wasn't far from the house, certainly visible from the large window in their living room, but deep and wide enough that someone could certainly drown, if they weren't sure how to swim. She'd thought it was beautiful when she and Harry had first bought the house—they really liked it because they had so much property, and thus, so much privacy. Now the pond had become more and more threatening though, as she had two not-yet-swimming children and one who was barely keeping his head above water. Not to mention Ron's kids, both of whom were too young to consider safe.

Ginny dragged her mind away from that thought and comforted herself with the fact that she'd locked eyes with Victoire on their way out—the girl was nine-years-old, and Ginny could feel more secure with her there. Of course, she was by no means old enough to watch them for any extended period of time, but certainly old enough to know when to demand help from her aunt, and really, that was all Ginny needed.

"Where're they going?" her older brother, Bill Weasley, asked as he entered the room. He watched as their children clambered down the stairs, a fond smile on his lips, and Ginny couldn't help but feel a twist of pain for her older brother's deformed face. It had still not been perfectly healed—and his grin was forever marred.

"Just to play by the pond." Ginny tried to keep her tone light, and Bill's eyebrows shot up. Ginny inwardly groaned: her insightful brother had picked up on how forced she'd been.

"You okay with that?" He asked. "Because I can go out there and be the bad cop, if you want. Victoire won't care and the kids will get over it in a heartbeat." Ginny was tempted—but no. She would not be her mother. She would give them a little freedom, a little adult-free fun: how many times had her own mother scolded her brothers and herself for doing something that was, in reality no more risky than walking down the steps?

"No, they're fine. I can keep an eye on them from up here." Ginny's tone was still forced, and Bill sighed and sank down on the couch beside his sister, watching her with concern. He'd noticed recently, as they spent more time around one another because his son, Louis, was Albus's age and consequently his best friend. And Bill had realized—as Ginny let her kids have soda all day and eat junk and kiss her husband a little more fiercely than warranted—that something had changed about his little sister. And he needed to know what it is.

"You're not Mum." He said finally, leaning back in his chair, satisfied that he'd found the answer to the question as Ginny looked up frantically. "And hesitating before sending your kids to play by a large body of water supervised by a nine-year-old doesn't make you overprotective. It makes you normal." Ginny stared at him. How the hell had her brother _done_ that?

"What?" Her voice was small now, and Bill had a surge of sympathy for Ginny. He sometimes forgot that she was human too—his spitfire baby sister was still married to an auror who no one could guarantee would come home safely every night, and a mother of three under thirty. She still had dozens of tabloids tracking her whenever she went out, gossip columns written about how she and Harry were bound to split any day (they weren't, by the way, but no use telling _them _that). She still worried about all her brothers and wondered if somehow she could mess her beautiful children up.

"You're their Mum, Gin." He said quietly. "You get to be a little frazzled and a little weird. You'll get to hesitate when they go out by themselves until the day they move out, for good." He tilted his head a little. "There's nothing _wrong_ with being Mum, by the way. She sort of rocks." Ginny stared at Bill before she smiled a little: she agreed with him. Molly Weasley was a force of nature, crazy hair and hats and all. She'd raised six boys and one girl, and taken another child under her wing. She'd been a valuable in ally against Voldemort and a wonderful mother, even if most of the time she simply had to tell her children to suck it up, that it didn't matter if Charlie stole your book, because you weren't using it anyway.

But Ginny still... wanted to be different. Better, somehow. And she felt bad for thinking it. But she did.

"Mum does rock." Ginny agreed, smiling a little more. She sighed, glancing down at the book she'd been pretending to read when her children had walked out the door. "But I'm _not_ her, right?" Bill laughed, a little too loud, and Ginny grinned, feeling relieved. She was more comfortable with this Bill, the too-loud, too-close Bill she'd grown up with.

"Right." Bill confirmed.

"Aunt Ginny!" Victoire's scream was audible from the pond, and Ginny jumped to her feet, frantic as she glanced at the children by the pond. Her gaze frantically counted the children around the pond: Albus, James, Victoire, Hugo, Rose.... where was—"Lily's fallen in!" Victoire continued, fluttering around the edge of the pond while she pulled her cousins closer to her, as if the pond would come up to grab one of them. She was holding Hugo and James back, Ginny realized distantly, while Albus was clinging to Rose in fright.

Oh, Merlin.

Ginny took off, slamming down the stairs on the side of their house and onto the cold ground: it was November, after all. She scrambled forward, beating the other adults who were also moving forward, all of them emerging from the house. Harry, Ron, Hermione, George, Angelina, Bill, Fleur, Lee Jordan and his wife, Dahlia, all took off towards the pond. Ginny wrestled off her sweatshirt as she got closer to the pond and didn't hesitate as she threw it to the ground and dived in, forcing her eyes open in the murky water as she searched for her baby girl.

The water was freezing.

Ginny's teeth were chattering almost instantly, but she could barely give it a thought as her toes began to tingle: she had to find her little Lilybug. She scanned the water, cursing herself from not doing maintenance on this stupid pond: if it were clean, she would have been able to find her baby faster. Where was she?

At the bottom.

Ginny scooped up her baby girl a minute after she dived in, not allowing herself to notice how the girl's face was tinted blue, how her lips were a peculiar shade of lavender. She'd been secured to the ground by some old muggle fishing net that had caught on her stockings, and frantic thoughts of how could this possibly be an accident shot through her mind. Ginny shot to the surface, exploding up with Lily, her heart pounding as she realized her daughter's wasn't.

"Harry!" She screamed as she waded to the shore and collapsed there, cradling her baby girl. Her husband met them halfway, frantically stroking Lilly's scarlet hair back from her face. "Oh, Merlin, Lilybug, come on sweetheart," Ginny murmured, and Harry, upon running out of options, looked at Hermione frantically.

"The muggle way?" He begged, and Hermione blinked once before tearing out of Ron's arms, which she'd cocooned herself in with her own two children, feeling guilty for thanking God that it weren't her babies who'd fallen in. Hermione felt relief course through her as it dawned on her that Harry was asking for help with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. She couldn't just sit there and watch her little niece die, and this was something she _knew_.

"What?" Ginny demanded frantically, her voice hoarse, and she screamed shortly and tugged back as Harry tried to lift her daughter from her arms.

"Love," Harry said softly, crouching before his wife and putting a hand on her face, his voice to fast. "There's something called mouth-mouth, let Hermione and I try," Harry begged her, and Ginny reluctantly let Lily go, tears coursing thickly down her face. Ron hauled his baby sister to her feet and hugged her tightly, before pulling back long enough to slide off his coat and put it around his sopping wet sister.

Harry laid his daughter carefully on the frozen ground and sat back as Hermione blew in her mouth, pinching her nose shut, before gently pressing on her stomach. Twenty seconds passed of this before Lily's eyes shot open, filling with tears as she flipped over to cough out more water than Ginny would have guessed was possible. Still, she tore from her brother, falling to her knees beside her daughter and husband as Hermione pulled back. She hauled a teeth-chattering-ly cold Lily into her arms and hugged her for all she was worth, and Harry's arms slipped around the both of them, protecting his girls as he kissed the top of first her head, than Lily's. Albus was the first to sidle forward, tears in his eyes, before sinking down with his sister and parents as they all cradled Lily protectively; James moved forward not a moment later, burying his face in his little sister's should as he clung to her, frightened. Ginny and Harry moved to protect all their babies, Harry's frantic eyes flicking to his sons, wondering how close he came to having them fall in.

There were no more cool moms in the Weasley clan for some time.


End file.
